


The Book Cave

by cruciomysoul



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Animated), DCU (Comics)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Library, Bookshop, Jaytim - Freeform, Libraries, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-13 15:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1232503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruciomysoul/pseuds/cruciomysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>{Library AU}</b>Tim hasn’t had much look in the dating department. He’s probably had one, maybe two guys in all of this 19 year old existence. And none of those lasted more than two months and were ever serious, he’s sure of it. And then he meets Jason- cool, collected, coming into the library at exactly the same time each day, and with a very sporadic taste in books. He finds it alluring (probably for the wrong reasons) and begins to pursue him- in the most ridiculous way, of course. Leaving books for him on his chair, little subtle hints, pfft! What he doesn’t realise, is that Jason’s also leaving little hints for Tim… and Tim just isn’t noticing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Early Bird Catches The Worm

Work always dragged in the mornings; the library was almost always empty, save for a few college/university students (really, there was no difference in their lifestyles, Tim had noticed) who had pulled an all night long session doing revision or writing a thesis and whatnot. The only good thing, he supposed, about this shift was that it was always quiet. He didn't have to tell anybody to 'shush' or 'turn the music down', because they were wither A) too tired to be loud, or B) half asleep (if not already taking a nap) and so could not function properly with music. He did, occasionally, however, have to ask them to refrain from eating. He kept meaning to ask about having a food section placed in somewhere- but he just never got around to it. Something else always, always came up.

The only nights that the library wasn't open all night were Friday and Sunday. Friday because, well, it's a  _Friday_. Students - their main audience, surprisingly - preferred to go out drinking and socialising, instead of clamping down on the studying. Every now and then there would be a student staying in until closing time - 22:00 - but most of the time, the place was empty by 18:30. Which suited Tim just fine- he could sit and read for the next 3 and a half hours.

When Tim's alarm went off, blaring into life with an obnoxious "Hello and good morning listeners! The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and you, dear listener, are rising!" he groaned, snuggling deeper down into his blankets.

 _Shut up,_ he thought, _the sun is nowhere near rising!_  It was true; being 5:15 in the morning, (and on a  _Monday!_ ) the sun had indeed not risen yet. And it wouldn't do for about another 2 hours, maybe 2 and a half. But that abhorrent voice was just about the only thing ensuring Tim's out-of-bedness, since he had to cross his room in order to shut it off. Completely on purpose, this was self induced misery.

Burrowing deeper once more, Tim finally sighed, before throwing his blanket off of him just as the voice announced "This morning we have several riveting topics to discuss..." Tim decided he did not wish to find out what those 'riveting topics' were to be, and so scrambled across his room to shut the infernal device off. If he was heaving for breath afterwards, well, let's just say he wasn't.

Stretching out his limbs, Tim let out a cat-like yawn and headed to the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the cupboard as he did so.

"Don't take too long." Damian - Tim's younger brother, by four years - snapped, glaring, half hidden by the shadows of his bedroom. Tim rolled his eyes,

"You tell me that every morning," Tim said, continuing past him and toward the bathroom, "And I never take too long." He shut the bathroom door behind him, decidedly ignoring the muffled growl of "June 19th." That floated through.

June 19th was his  _birthday_ , and if he wanted to spend longer in the bathroom, then he damn well would. Damian could just consider that part of the gift he never actually got him.

Tim liked his showers cold, especially this early in the morning. Though he had been living this routine now for well over a year, it still nagged at him and a relapse could happen at any time if he didn't keep constant vigilance.

He was out of the bathroom within 25 minutes, and on his way back to his bedroom, towel wrapped around waist, encountered a semi-domesticated animal. Tim raised an eyebrow at his disapproving frown, but otherwise didn't comment. He simply entered his bedroom, aware of the eyes following him like a cat stalking its prey, and shut the door behind him. Locked the door behind him. It had been six years since the brat had spontaneously appeared into everybody's lives, and he still didn't trust him. Completely.

Choosing an outfit was difficult. There were just too many colours for Tim to choose from- black, black, or more black. It was a tough choice, one his just-had-a-shower-and-almost-completely-awake-just-get-me-that-cup-of-coffee brain absolutely loathed.

Eventually, and surprisingly, he decided on black skinny jeans and a black long sleeved shirt- but with a brown, short sleeved shirt thrown over the top of that. So there was  _some_  colour after all - not much, admittedly, but some. (There were some reds, too, but honestly- the majority was just black. Nothing could trump black. It was dark, sophisticated, warm and stain-free from everything that was not milk or yoghurt.)

By the time he had dried his hair - his hair that was almost to his shoulders and in desperate need of a cut - it was nearing 6 AM. Only an hour until he had to go and open the library. He would work until 12, and then return at 17:00 to work the closing shift (if it was a Friday or Sunday), or until 22:00, when the poor sap that had to work until relief at 7 AM showed up.

He still had time to eat breakfast, though, a hearty bowl of bran flakes - with sugar, come on, who in their right mind ate cereal without sugar? Unless, you know, it was chocolate coated cereal- sugar did not belong on top of chocolate, oh no.

Damian came down and joined him halfway through the bowl, fresh from the shower with just jeans around his lower half. If Tim said he wasn't envious of the teen's chiselled chest, he'd be lying. It was a very nice and toned chest, and Tim definitely wasn't thinking inappropriate things about his younger brother's stunningly muscled chest and bruised collar bones or fading, pink scratches-

Wait, what?

Tim frowned into his bowl. They didn't have a cat, and he knew Damian wasn't one for public indecency, even in the summer heat- so where had those scratches come from? The bruises?

"Are you fighting again?" Tim asked, looking at him suspiciously. This had happened a few years back, just after he had arrived- Damian had a habit of picking fights with kids in his school, and more often than not, he would prove the victor- but at a cost; he would end up banged up in some way or another. But Tim thought that had stopped. In fact, he and Bruce were both pretty sure that had stopped.

Damian gave him a guarded look, and then his eyes flicked down to his chest. Something seemed to flicker in his eyes - surprise, apprehension, maybe - and Damian blinked. "No," He answered, resolving to pour his own bowl of cereal and eat that instead of giving Tim further information.

"Are you sure?" Tim pursued, because really, if he  _was_  fighting again, then that wasn't right, and they needed to do something, because they thought they had turned him into quite a respectable young man, at least, not so much of a devil spawn as he had been, and-

Damian sighed. "Yes, Drake, I am sure. I have not been fighting. These marks have been acquired through a more...  _personal_  activity."

Well, if that didn't make Tim frown harder, he wasn't sure what would. Tim's look turned quizzical. "Personal? What kind of activity leaves-" Realisation dawned on Tim, and by God, did he go red, and was extremely glad he had no food in or near his mouth, for he was sure he would have choked. "Oh my god, Damian, I did not need to know that!"

Damian smirked, just as Tim shuddered. Really, it was too much information for the nineteen year old- he did not want to know that his fifteen year old brother was partaking in  _that_.

"Well, you asked."

"No, no, I asked if you were  _fighting,_  I did not ask if you were having  _sex_!"

"Same thing."

" _No they are not!"_  Tim was horrified. He really hoped Damian wasn't being serious. "Tell me you're not being serious,"

"Of course not, what do I look like, an imbecile?"

"Well, I hope you're using protection," Tim chastised, huffing.

"Why?" Damian muttered, "It's not like I can get him pregnant." He rolled his eyes under Tim's glare, "But yes, we are both using more than adequate protection." Tim nodded; he knew Bruce wasn't very good at this sort of thing. (The version of 'The Talk' that he had received had, well, let's not go there, actually.)

"Good. I'm, er, glad. Well, I am off to work. Have a nice day." He didn't get a 'have a nice day' back, or even a 'good bye'- instead, Tim got a grunt, which was good enough, he supposed.

It took 15 minutes to drive to work, and when he got there at precisely 6:54 AM, he saw a sight he did not expect he would ever see-

A boy. No, upon drawing closer, Tim realised it was not a boy, but a man? Someone older than Tim, at any rate, so early 20's? That qualified as a man, right?

Either way, they were stood outside the library doors, reading. This was peculiar. Nobody had ever stood outside the library before, waiting for it to open. At least, that's what Tim presumed he was doing.

He didn't even look like the bookish type, Tim realised. He had a leather jacket, a bike helmet underneath one arm, black combat boots and- was that a streak in his hair? Grey, right at the front? Who  _was_  this guy?

"Can I help you?" Tim questioned, voice a little wary. He had a right to be wary of this guy, okay? He had a right.

"Huh?" The guy seemed to have to pull his eyes from the page - Pride and Prejudice, Tim noted - to look at Tim. Then he grinned, a little crookedly. "Oh, no, not unless you can open these doors for me." He pointed to the library doors. So he  _was_  waiting for it to open.

"Actually," Tim drawled out, and why the heck not, he could play it up a bit, flirt a little. "Opening doors is kind of my party trick." Tim winked, before fishing the chain of keys out his pocket and - hazar - opening the doors. The male stared for a moment, and then laughed.

"Well, I'll be damned." He muttered softly, with a smile to his voice. "Mind if I come in? Or is it still too early?" Tim shrugged,

"Might as well, saves you standing in the cold. Though I'm afraid it takes a while for the computers to boot up, so if you were in a hurry..." The male shook his head,

"I'm not, don't worry. I'm still not sure what kind of book I'm after yet." Tim nodded, and beckoned him to follow. He was not expecting the gasp he got when they entered the main book room, though. "This place is huge." He seemed surprised- which wasn't unusual, actually.

From the outside, the Book Cave didn't look particularly big. But it extended far back, much further than many could see, and so they were always surprised when they first came in here. It wasn't that it just went backward, either; the Book Cave had many floors. Five, in total - but the top two were Staff only. Tim looked over his shoulder at the male as he spoke,

"Is this your first time here?" They nodded, "All right. We'll have to set you up an account then. Feel free to browse while I wait for the computer to boot up, though." And then Tim disappeared behind the counter and into one of the back rooms, leaving the stranger alone.

By the time Tim returned, the stranger hadn't moved. Tim now had a name tag pinned to his shirt, and had replaced the brown short sleeved with another short sleeved, but this one was dark blue. Work issued, with the 'Book Cave' embroidered right above his tag.

"You're not in shock, are you?" Tim teased, noting how the male's head  seemed to be permanently fixed upward- looking at all the books on the second floor, no doubt.

The thing about the first and second floors were that you didn't really know where one ended and the other began. The walls were line from floor to ceiling with shelves, and in the middle of the room was a grand staircase, one that could easily fit 5 or 6 people width ways, which was also lined with books fitted underneath the banisters and between each step. It really was like a book lover's paradise.

The second floor - or a balcony, as many patrons called it - had wooden railings and went the whole way around the room. There was also a staircase on that 'floor', a spiralling metal one which lead to the top floor, which was basically a play room. It was for the children under nine, who could explore as much they wanted up there and have at the books suitable for their age.

The male laughed, "No, I'm fine. Kind of happy, actually." He made his way toward the back of the room, where there were several long tables reserved for those in need of studying. He put his helmet down on one of them, following it with a thump from his messenger bag. He must have had a lot of stuff inside there. Tim left him to observe the shelves whilst he logged onto the computer, letting it boot up.

 _Well,_  Tim thought,  _I might as well put the sign out._

The Book Cave had one of those chalkboard signs that Tim (or whoever else was working the morning shift) had to place outside. It had a customary greeting, and then a message of the day. 

Grabbing the chalk and cloth from one of the draws under the till, Tim rubbed off the previous day's message and wrote today's:

> Welcome to the Book Cave, where all of life's wonders lurk!
> 
> Today's proverb: "The Early Bird Catches The Worm."

"I'll be back in a sec, okay?" He didn't know if he was heard or not, but didn't stick around to find out. Tim went outside, deposited the sign, and came back in, shuddering from the sudden breath of cold air. "Right then," Tim stated, smiling - and this time they guy did hear, because he looked over, hand pausing against the book it was about to pull out. "Let's get this done, shall we?" The guy nodded and made his way over as Tim ducked behind the counter, going to stand behind the counter.

"Right," Tim murmured, just as he opened up the correct document. "So I need your name,"

"Jason Todd."

"Date of birth?"

"August 2nd, 1993."

"Telephone Number?"

"Mobile or Land line?"

"Doesn't matter."

"07135792468."

"Address?"

"29 Kings Avenue-,"

"That's near my house, actually." Tim sounded a little surprised, he'd never seen the guy - Jason - before.

"Yeah?" Jason asked, sounding a little surprised as well.  Tim nodded,

"Are you new in town?"

"Sort of." Tim didn't ask what he meant by that. "Is that everything?" Tim nodded again,

"Yep. Just got to print these, get you to sign them- and then I will post you your card, or you can pick it up, whichever- but don't worry, you can still take out a book today if you wish, I'll just have to put it on the system manually."

Jason nodded, "If it'll be ready by tomorrow then I'd like to pick it up, please."

"It should be, yeah, that's fine." Tim collected the papers from the printer, handing them over with a pen for Jason to sign. Jason's signature was, well, not messy - but not entirely legible either? It was filled with flicks, an italic scripture that looked like it belonged in medieval times. It was incredibly nice to watch, though.

Jason smiled as he handed the papers back. "Okay then, Tim, thank you very much. I'm going to continue browsing, if that's okay." Jason began to back away as Tim motioned a 'go ahead' symbol with his hand.

"Knock yourself out."

"I think I just might... With _knowledge._ " Tim looked at him, he who had just made possibly the world's worst pun and was smiling pretty damn smugly.

"You did not." Tim groaned, "Jason Todd, that was the  _lamest_  pun  _ever._ " Jason laughed, for the second time that morning, his head thrown back.

"Oh, there's plenty more where that came from. Puns are kind of my party trick." Tim had to, he had to blush, especially when Jason  _winked._  He turned his head away, trying not to smile.

"Laugh, you know you want to." Jason called, a teasing tone to his voice. Tim did want to, and he could feel it tugging at his lips, trying to break free.

"This is a  _library._ " Tim said instead, trying to channel his voice, "So, shush!" He gave Jason his best disapproving stare, and the older male pretended to shudder in fright.

"Yes, sir." He quipped afterwards, causing Tim to roll his eyes. It was a good job they were the only two in store; he kind of got the feeling others might not approve of how loud they were being.

Moments passed in silence, Jason having found a book and flipping through it contently, and Tim tapping away at the computer.

"Hey," Tim was interrupted, and turned towards the source- Jason. "Does this place have Wifi?" Tim nodded,

"Yeah, the password's 'Bookoutofhell'. No spaces." Jason gave him a dead pan look.

"Seriously?"

"Yep." Tim popped his 'P', drumming away at the counter. He could still feel Jason's stare.

"And you said  _my_ pun was lame."

"Oh it was," Tim assured him, smiling, "And so is the password. I didn't choose it."

"So who did?" Man, this guy was full of questions.

"The owner. My, ah, father."

"Your father owns this place?" Tim nodded, feeling a little embarrassed. "That's gotta be cool, you know, reading all the books you want when you want." Tim looked at him, to see if his interest was genuine. When it seemed so, Tim smiled, relaxing a little.

"Yeah," He agreed, "It's pretty cool."

"So he likes bats?" At Tim's confused look, Jason elaborated, "Well, it's just that, you know, 'Cave' and bats are primarily found in caves, and the password is 'bookoutofhell' - you know, Meat Loaf, 'Bat out of Hell', I just sort of assumed... Was I wrong?"

"Oh, no, no, you weren't wrong. It's just," Tim huffed, "No one's ever got that link before. I was a little startled. But it's ironic, really. Bruce is afraid of bats."

"Well, that's... definitely ironic."

"Yeah."

They trailed off into quietness for a few more moments, but Tim anticipated that Jason would break it again, and soon. He seemed to like talking, but he was being respectable at the same time - it was odd. It was like Jason knew and cared about the fact he was in a library, but then at the same time,  _didn't_ because he was being loud and not annoying, per say, but he was involving himself in Tim's work. But not annoying, anything but annoying. Tim was actually kind of enjoying talking to Jason.

"So..." Tim looked at Jason expectantly, noticing how the sun had now fully risen. It was going to be a clear day, he'd heard on the radio during his drive in. "This place always so quiet in the mornings?"

Tim smiled, resting his hand on his chin as he looked at Jason, "No." He shook his head slightly, "They're usually a lot quieter." 


	2. Never Doubt a Wayne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim has changed a lot in a year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean it's been over a year since I last updated don't be absurd you mangy walnut.

Jason was still in the library when Tim left at 12, and he hadn't seemed even remotely close to checking out a book. Not that Tim had been keeping tabs, of course.

They'd conversed some more, and Tim found out Jason had just transferred into college, studying pastoral care.

"Kids are great," He'd said, pausing in flicking through his current book. "My background and upbringing weren't the best, so I know what it's like to feel as though there's nobody to talk to in school." At this he had grimaced, though it lasted only a fleeting second.

Tim had blinked in surprise- Jason seemed like a very well educated individual. He hadn't expected to hear he'd come from some place rocky. After the grimace had passed, Jason had grinned again, looking over at Tim.

"That's why I want to go work in schools and youth hostels, as a youth counsellor. Opportunities like that weren't available for me, so I want to make sure they're available for everyone else." Jason's grin had turned a little abashed, then, as though he were suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry, you probably didn't want to hear all that."

Tim had shook his head quickly, straightening up. "No, no! It's fine, really. Honestly," Tim had admitted, looking a little sheepish himself, "It's nice to have someone to talk to this early in the morning. People don't usually start to come in until around 9."

"Oh," Jason blinked, all embarrassment gone, "Cool." Flashing Tim another grin, he had returned to flicking through his book.

And then, after what seemed like no time at all, Tim had to leave.

"If you do end up checking a book out today," Tim called to Jason, as he exited the staff room, having switched his dark blue uniform for his earlier brown t-shirt, "Just explain to the person manning the desk that you've only just joined. They'll add you in manually."

Jason nodded, just as the person taking over from Tim came down from one of the floors above, and said goodbye. "All right, then. I guess I'll see you around." He gave a small wave, which Tim returned.

The day had indeed brightened up. He could have probably forgone the long sleeved under shirt, but hey, what damage was an extra layer going to do?

Tim had two hours of afternoon classes, starting at 1, and then he was free for another two hours before he had to return. Well, at least he could have an early dinner with his family.

Shoving his bag onto the back seat of his car, Tim turned the key in the ignition, and pulled out the car park. That was another thing he meant to ask Bruce about- putting an employee's car park around the back of the library. 

Behind the shop, there was a deserted industrial space. It was badly overgrown, with the cracks sprouting all kinds of weeds- dandelions, nettles, doc leaves. It hadn't been used in years, and whilst it wasn't for sale, Tim knew Bruce had contacts. He could sort something out, somehow.

'Never doubt a Wayne', was the motto Tim had come to live by. Just. Seriously. Never doubt them. They could probably harpoon you in their sleep, if they really deemed it necessary.

Pulling into the a parking space near the college campus, Tim shot Bart a quick text to make sure the kid wasn't late, and headed toward the building.

Monday's classes weren't the best. First he had History, which wasn't bad, per se, because he  _liked_  the topics - Stalin's Russia, Ireland - but he just  _didn't_  like the teacher.

Well, no, that wasn't fair; he liked the teacher, sure, he was nice and knew his stuff, he just didn't know how to teach. And it was so infuriating, because not only did Tim feel slightly let down, so did everyone else.

Or so he imagined, judging by the recent grades they just got back. At least his were all still A's and above, if varying in the actual marking points.

Bart wasn't so lucky. He averaged a C at best, but was primarily a D student. It wasn't that he was dumb; far from it, in fact. He just had trouble focusing- his essays would go off topic, or he'd veer during a discussion, and sprout off barely relevant facts that don't aid him at all.

He also wouldn't let Tim help him out. Tim had offered, not to tutor him, because Bart didn't need that- he just needed someone to help him structure his work, to keep him from getting off of topic so easily and following that ever tormenting tangent.

But Bart refused. Stubborn, undoubtedly. And to talk of the devil, just as Tim rounded the corner that lead to the classroom, he heard the running foot falls behind him. There was only one person it could be.

"At least you're on time," Tim hummed as Bart came into step beside him, grinning.

"Yeah," Bart agreed, "But I dunno if I remembered all my stuff." Tim sighed, rolling his eyes, and opened the door for them, letting Bart pass through first. "Thanks."

They sat down around the middle of the classroom, nabbing a table that had two free spaces.

As the bell rang, signalling for the start of lesson, people began trickling into the classroom; in twos and threes, singular, and then last of all, one large group of 7. The teacher followed shortly after, laptop tucked under his arm. It took a couple more minutes for him to set it up, and for the class to lull into silence as conversations died out.

Well, most of the conversations. Bart was kind of one of  _those_  kids.

You know, the ones who were always striking up conversations with someone about something. The ones who - miraculously - never got caught, or at the very least, told off for it. But then again, he spoke so fast that it was impossible to sometimes even see his lips read. God help deaf people who tried to speak with Bart, they'd get nowhere in the lip reading department.

It pretty much dragged, and so did the economics lesson after that. It hadn’t been Tim’s choice to study economics, however Bruce insisted.

“It makes for a good businessman,” He had reasoned, and whilst Tim had no interest in business, he supposed it couldn’t hurt. He’d learned a lot about the world through it, so he there was no complaint he could file. (Internally, he was thanking Bruce. Externally, he was indifferent.)

By the time Tim had gotten himself home, it was half past three and the clouds were beginning to roll in. His homework load was light, but he figured it was best to get it all out of the way now- which would leave him plenty of time to read at work instead of furiously scribbling down notes, which has honestly happened countless times before. He didn’t think of Jason, or of the library at all.

His careful index tabbing of useful pages was interrupted by the slamming of the front door. A glance at his alarm clock confirmed the time; 16:17. Damian was never home before four, though his school was less than a twenty-minute walk away.

At first he thought Damian was staying behind to participate in school clubs, but that was impossible because a) Damian was about as anti-social as a cougar, and b) he tried to spend as little time as possible in that place- Bruce had received frequent phone calls from the principle ranting of Damian walking off site during lunch and his free periods because, and Tim is directly quoting the brat here, “If I have to spend more than 30 hours in this place per week every week, father, I  _will_  be the devil’s advocate that Drake firmly believes I am, and I  _will_  stab someone with my pen so hard they’ll be shitting ink for a week, and then who’s going to have to deal with the lawsuit-” (Bruce had put the phone down at that point, and Tim had a fleeting fear of Bruce actually crushing the mobile device in his hand. He was that angry he hadn’t even berated Damian for his obscene language, but they’d worked out a compromise with the headteacher by the end of the week. Like Tim said, Never Doubt a Wayne.)

So then he presumed Damian was staying behind because he was failing, and compulsory revision was part of the bargain they had struck after the aforementioned incident, except Damian’s grades were immaculate. 

Hence, Tim concluded, whatever Damian did between the hours of three and four every weekday, it was not at all remotely school related. And if this morning’s conversation had anything to do with it, Tim was certain (with a sour look on his face, mind you.) that he knew exactly what it was that Damian got up to that wasn’t remotely school related. Or PG rated.

He wondered if Bruce knew.

“Welcome home,” He called out, taking his headphones off and listening out for a reply- a small grunt and further slamming. Really, it was routine.

He appeared in his doorway a few minutes later. “Father won’t be home until late,” He told Tim. Well, there went early dinner plans with the family. “And so I have a date.” Damian blinked, and Tim waited for the other shoe to drop. “I want you to confirm to father that you witnessed me complete all of my assignments.”

Tim pretended to mull it over inside of his head.

“And  _did_ you complete all of your assignments?” Damian scowled at him, and Tim - miraculously - kept his face impassive. Damian reached into his pocket, and with a quick flick of his wrist, something small and square landed with a muffled thud on Tim’s bed. Damian turned and stalked off with a snarled “yes,” accompanied by more slamming.

Grinning now, Tim left his desk to see what gift Damian had bestowed upon him. It was a black box, relatively small, and with no branding of any sort on it. Frowning, he pulled open the lid and- oh. Would you look at that. Tim was almost afraid to touch it. His index finger was just hovering over the rim of the box when Damian’s voice reappeared in his doorway, and his head snapped around to look at him, mouth slightly agape.

“Yes, it’s authentic, and no, I didn’t kill anybody for it. It’s yours to keep.”

Tim glanced back down at the box in his hand, and then back at Damian. One of his eyebrows was raised slightly, but in disbelief rather than mockery. He long ago accepted the knowledge that he will never fully comprehend the being that is Damian Al Ghul Wayne.

“This date’s important to you.” A look of confusion flickered over Damian’s face before it re-schooled into nothing, and then Tim realised. “No- this  _guy_  is important to you.” Even to his own ears, he sounded shocked. But Damian didn’t get offended, only dipping his head slightly in affirmation. Tim nodded in response. 

“Good work on your assignments,” Tim praised him, and then turned back to continue admiring his new possession.

* * *

 There was really no point in cooking a meal just for himself, and so Tim found himself leaving for work early, and stopping off at Pizza Express.   


The first thing the blonde behind the counter said when she saw him was: “You are going to get scurvy.” Tim didn’t even blink, just pulling out the correct amount of change and plonking it down on the counter between them. “You haven’t even given me a tip,” she griped, “How callous.” Tim grinned, and put an extra fiver down.

“I know you’re about to get off, so come join me.” With that, he walked away and sat down in one the booths.

Minutes later, a fresh pizza, a Styrofoam cup of cola, Steph and a steaming tub were all sat opposite him.

Tim smiled in thanks, before digging in. Steph snorted. “Your diet is appalling,” she muttered, head shaking. Childishly, Tim stuck his tongue out at her.

“Says you. What is that, anyway?” He asked with a head notion towards her tub.

“Cottage pie,” She answered, shovelling another forkful into her mouth. “Home made,” She added, grinning. Tim almost moaned.

“That’s  _so_  not fair,” He grumbled. Steph snickered,

“Is too. I told you, you picked the wrong parent to live with in the divorce. Momma Alfie all the way, baby!” Chuckling, Tim shoved another pizza slice in his mouth.

The pro of sticking with Bruce and Damian when Alfred retired a couple years ago? He got to eat all the junk food he wanted without fear of rebuke, because Bruce was about as good in the kitchen as a mule.

The con? Steph hadn’t stayed. Steph left, and got to eat glorious home cooked food  _all the time._

Still, there was nothing stopping him from going around and demanding food. It was what they practically did every Sunday, anyway, under the pretence of family dinner. (They all knew Bruce secretly abhorred his sense of morality when he forced Alfred into retirement. Tim didn’t speak to him for almost a month, and Steph flat out left, after all. But Bruce would never admit it. He stands by his decision, citing that it was the “right” thing to do as Alfred was getting on, and deserved some peace from “you unruly hooligans”.)

A bunch of rowdy toddlers came running in, screaming and laughing at each other, and a pair of adults trickling slowly in after them. Tim grimaced.

“Remind me again why you work here?” He looked from Steph, to the loud and whiny children, and then back to Steph. “You’re studying law, Steph, and you work in a pizza place.”

“Don’t mock my profession, kid.” She huffed, waving her fork at him threateningly, eyes squinting into a glare. “’Sides, obnoxious, bratty kids are great. They get everything sticky, and then some poor sod has to spend hours of their day trying to discern what it is, whether or not it’s toxic, and how to safely and efficiently get rid of it, all without burning the place down.”

“Steph that person is you.”

“I know,” She fake-sobbed into her hands, “I hate my job.” Tim laughed, and Steph pried two fingers apart to glare at him through.

“Laugh all you want, Timmy, but those sticky fingers can and will find themselves inside your precious books, I  _guarantee_  it.” Tim’s laughter stopped. He gulped. Maybe he should switch topics.

“You’ll be late for work at this rate,” Steph pointed out after a few minutes of idle chitchat. Tim shrugged.

“It’s fine, it’s only Cass. So long as I take her some pizza, she won’t mind. She usually stays until nine, anyway.”

“Really?” Steph frowned, her brow furrowing. “What’s up with that?” Tim shrugged again, reaching for his drink.

“No idea.” Steph was still frowning when he put his drink back down, and Tim groaned. “No.” He said firmly. Steph raised her eyebrows at him in response.

“What?” She asked, feigning innocence.

“She’ll punch you in the face,” He warned her, knowing it was completely futile to do so. “Again.”

“She would never!” Steph vowed, a glint in her eye that Tim was going to forever pretend he had never seen.

Left over slices of Pizza in a take away box, Steph and Tim departed the pizza joint and began their journeys home and to work, respectively. 

“See you Sunday!” He called back to her, waving.

“Yeah!” She shouted, “Remind Bruce to bring dessert!”

* * *

He felt her eyes on him as soon as he walked into The Book Cave. They followed him as he walked up to the counter, through the hatch, and only stopped as he disappeared behind the “Staff Only” door. He shivered, and then full on jumped out of his skin when a hand touched his arm.

“ _Jesus Christ!_ ” He swore, feeling his heart beat ten to a dozen. She only blinked at him in response, and then opened up the pizza box. “Yes, that’s yours,” He told her, calming down enough to take his coat off, “And no, there’s no onion, don’t worry.”

Boy, had  _that_  been an experience. If you wanted Tim's advice (and, not to toot his own horn or anything, but Tim was quite confident that at any given moment he was almost certainly always going to be correct, so bear that in mind, would you?), never, ever, buy or bestow upon Cassandra Cain a substance that contains onions.

“Sorry I’m late,” He apologised, hanging up his coat and then replacing his shirt with his work uniform. “Steph rambled on for too long,” He explained, not mentioning the part where he did equal amounts of rambling.

With that, he left Cass alone to eat her pizza slices and took to the counter.

The place was, surprisingly, almost chaotically full- as in, at least 3 chairs on every table were occupied, and there were several people browsing the shelves that he could see. A quick glance at the security screens below the counter showed that a fair few amount of people were perusing the cases he couldn't see, as well.

No doubt there was a hoard of kids upstairs, as well. Kon was working that floor, like he did all day every day, because the guy was a saint for being able to put up with kids for (in some cases) more than twelve hours a day.

Cass came back out front a while later - after Tim had checked out two books already, boy, was he busy tonight - free of her uniform and a rather heavy looking messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

She placed the bag down on the counter with a  _thunk_  and then hopped up along side it, sitting cross legged and pulling out an assortment of things- pens, pencils, ruler, calculator, notepaper, a textbook.

“You know, there’s some tables over there.” Tim pointed out. Cass huffed, ignoring him and starting to work. He bit down a grin.

“Maths?” He asked her after a while. She nodded.  “Need any help?” A shake of her head.

Really, the only time Cass seemed to speak was when she was dealing with customers; and even then, her wordage was kept to the bare minimum of politeness. Tim suspected the only reason Bruce had hired her in the first place was because her stoic nature intrigued him- and he’d always had a soft spot for orphans.

“How was your shift today?” She’d only been here for a couple of hours, but that didn’t necessarily mean something dreadful couldn’t have happened. Libraries were perilous places. In all honesty, he wasn’t expecting a verbal response, so he was a little surprised when he got one.

“Crazy Steve came back this afternoon,” Tim let out a sigh. This conversation now was going to go one of two ways-

One, Tim was going to have to bury his head in his hands and literally moan at Cass to stop being so- so  _Cass._ Or,

Two; Tim was going to ruffle her hair and congratulate her for doing the grown up thing.

“And?” He asked tentatively, willing her to elaborate.

There was a slight pause. “He spent fifteen minutes in the bathroom. Twenty staring at the same book cover. Thirty-nine crouched, staring at the carpet.”

Nothing weirder than usual, it seemed.

“I see. And what did you do, Cassandra?” There was a sharp glare at the use of her full name, but otherwise she didn’t comment.

“I asked him to leave.”

“And did he?” She shook her head. Tim became a little apprehensive. “So?”

“So... I called Kon down and asked him to deal with it.” Tim blinked. Oh, thank God.

“Good, I’m glad. Anything else happen?” Cass shook her head, and returned to completing her homework.

The rest of the evening trickled by slowly. No massive commotions occurred. Two students fell asleep around the same time and then woke each other up with their snoring. Tim found it amusing, and they found it slightly embarrassing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen someone go that red.

Kon’s shift ended at seven, and he departed with a cheery wave and a “See you guys tomorrow!”

Cass finished her maths and moved onto some physics. Tim didn’t bother to offer her any help with that. She began packing up her belongings around nine, when the library was mostly empty bar a few stragglers desperately flicking through the pages of books that could have easily been considered tomes.

“I suppose I should go.” Cass said, a forlorn look flitting across her face before becoming overshadowed by her usual look of indifference. Tim nodded,

“Be careful. Is someone coming to pick you up?” There was a slight hesitation, and then a nod. She didn’t meet his eyes. Keeping his sigh to himself, Tim nodded back. “All right. Well, you know where I am if you need me.”

Briefly, she smiled at him, and then picked up her messenger bag and headed for the doors.

As he watched her silhouette disappear out into the darkness, Tim wondered, not for the first time and more than likely not the last, if he should bring this to Bruce’s attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tip: re-read chapter one. Tell me how much my writing has improved in the last year. Boost my ego. Encourage more chapters. Settle my internal debate over whether or not I want to study Creative Writing at University next year. Choose my career path. Financially support me. Buy me five stick insects. Do not ask questions.


End file.
